Momma Mia
by ardavenport
Summary: Johnny encounters multiple women on an average shift, but the perfect one will always be the one who got away.
1. Chapter 1

**MOMMA MIA**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 1**

_**

* * *

". . . . Look at me now, will I ever learn.**_

_**I don't know how, but I suddenly lose control.**_

_**There's a fire within my soul."**_

_**"Just one look and I can hear a bell ring,**_

_**One more look and I forget everything . . . ooooooh,"**_

_**"Mamma mia, here I go again**_

_**My my, how can I resist you . . . . ."**_

Roy looked to his right and saw his partner leaning on the passenger door of the squad, his head, dark hairs on top catching in the breeze, turned toward the sound of the music. It was a catchy pop tune, cheerfully sung by female voices with perky instrumentals. Not too obnoxious or screechy, but nothing special. Roy turned back to the traffic ahead of them and a moment later the source of the mystery music pulled ahead in the lane next to them. A blond woman in a red convertible.

Next to him, Johnny had a big grin on his face. Roy sighed.

The pickup truck ahead of them gunned his accelerator to make it through a yellow light. Roy slowed and braked to a stop. They pulled up even with the convertible again at the red light.

_**". . . .Why, why did I ever let you go,**_

_**Mamma mia, now I really know,**_

_**My my, I could never let you go."**_

"Hi!" Johnny waved, looking down at the right-hand lane, his head and arm leaning out the window. Roy thought he heard an answering 'Hi' back, under the sounds of the music and traffic. He leaned forward, looking down either side of the cross street, thinking of the best way to go to break this off. He might get stuck waiting at the hospital while his partner made time with a pretty new nurse. But flirting in traffic seemed to be a bit too much.

Dispatch saved him the trouble of playing the heavy.

Oooooeeeeee-mmaaaahhhh - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

"Engine Fifty-One, Squad Fifty-One - Traffic accident with injuries - Thirty-two-eighty-seven Pinella Avenue, That's Thirty-two-eighty-seven Pinella Avenue, cross street Torrido - Time out Nine-fifty-seven."

Johnny's head whipped around at the sound. He reached for the mic. One hand on the steering wheel, Roy reached for his fire helmet, hanging behind the seat.

"Squad Fifty-One, Ten-Four." Johnny replaced the mic and Roy turned on the lights and siren.

Johnny put his own helmet on, but for a moment they were stuck until the cross traffic figured out they were there. As soon as he was sure the traffic had stopped on both sides, Roy pulled out, crossing the intersection and accelerating.

"Time to go to work, lover."

Johnny flashed a big smile, the helmet strap under his chin. "Oh, we'll see each other again."

His eyes on the traffic pulling off to the side ahead of them, Roy just shrugged. What were the chances of seeing a girl again after one random-chance meeting in traffic? He marveled at Johnny's optimism.

**

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- - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**MOMMA MIA**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 2**

* * *

The squad pulled up to the accident scene, siren winding down. They stopped behind the black Chevy, its left front rammed into a telephone pole on the narrow one-way street. There was a large truck, the trailer sitting diagonally across the street but it did not appear to be damaged. A Sheriff's deputy, Stan Whitmore, walked up to them as they got out.

"Looks like this guy tried to get around the truck as he was pulling out." Whitmore pointed toward a driveway at the back of a large white-painted building. "And he didn't quite make it. The left side door is bent, but you can get in on the right. The guy's unconscious over the steering wheel. We didn't want to move him until you got here. We've already called an ambulance."

Roy took out the biophone. "Is the truck driver hurt?"

Stan shook his head. "No. We just took his statement. And he rig's wedged in on this street until we get this car out of here. Tow truck's on the way."

They all looked as Engine Fifty-One turned onto the street a few blocks away, siren blaring.

Roy and Johnny went to the car. They did not smell any gasoline. Opening the front passenger door, Johnny slid in next to the driver, slumped over the bloody steering wheel. The shatter pattern on the windshield plainly showed where his head had impacted. Johnny ran hin fingers down his neck, under the long dingy blond hair and collar of the blue and gray plaid shirt.

"He's got a pulse." Strong and steady. "Sir? Sir?" He spoke loudly, his head level with the driver's. The Engine siren cut out as it stopped behind the squad. Roy called out to them.

"Mmmmmmmmm."

"Sir? Sir?"

"Uuuuh-mmmmmmm." He shifted his leg and raised and hand.

"Sir, please don't move." Johnny put his hand on the back of the victim's head. "Sir, you've been in an auto accident. Sir, can you hear me?"

"Mmmmm, wha, what, happin?"

"Sir, you've been in an auto accident. I need to know where you're hurt. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

"Mmmmmmm, wha, wha, who'r'you?" His head moved weakly under Johnny's hand.

"Sir, I'm a paramedic with the Los Angeles County Fire Department. I need you to keep still. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

"Mmmmm, ma head."

"Your head? Are you hurt anywhere else? Did you hurt your neck?" Johnny's hand moved from his head to his neck, then lightly touching his shoulders. No other obvious injuries.

"Mmmmmm, uuummmm, nooo."

"All right, I'm going to lean you back slowly, here." He eased the man's head back. Blood had soaked his hair, run down his face. He looked maybe twenty-five, no more than thirty. His eyes blinked open. Johnny pushed his hands down. "Now, I've gotta ask you to keep still. Don't touch your face, you've got a cut here." Taking his pen light out, he shined it in the man's eyes. They responded to the light but the left pupil was larger than the right. He reached for the BP cuff that Roy had left on the seat for him.

By the Engine, Roy finished filling in the others on what they had. They could get the victim, but they would need help getting him onto the back board. Captain Stanley and Chet Kelly jogged to the car with Roy while Marco Lopez double-checked it for any gas leeks. Johnny was taking the man's vital signs. Roy opened the biophone and called the hospital.

The man's name was Chuck Gilroy. He had a few bruises but the head injury seemed to be the only major thing. It was serious, but his vitals were stable. With Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez helping, they carefully lowered him onto the backboard and eased him out of the car. After the ambulance arrived, Captain Stanley made Engine Fifty-One available.

They were loading Chuck onto the ambulance stretcher when an older man called out from the sidewalk.

"Chuck? What's going on?"

Both paramedics turned to look his way, Johnny holding up the IV bag. He looked like he was in his late fifties with short gray hair and wrinkled face, wearing off white pants, dark shirt, pale gray cloth jacket. And a fishing hat.

"What happened? What did you do, Chuck?"

Chuck groaned. "Ooooooh, noooo."

"Sir, do you know him? Are you a friend?"

The man squinted back up at Roy. "Damn right. I'm his uncle. I told him to let me out a half a mile ago. Told him I'd rather walk than ride in that car with him. He was driving like a manic." He smugly sneered at the wreck, smashed into the telephone pole. "Looks like things didn't go so good after all. Mmm, hmm."

Chuck groaned again. Johnny looked at him carefully, but it didn't look like it was physical pain that was bothering him now.

"Well, Sir, you can ride with him up front in the ambulance to the hospital." Roy put a hand on his shoulder and steered him in that direction.

"I guess I better do that. Have to call my sister and tell her what a damn fool her son is."

Chuck groaned again as they loaded him into the ambulance.

**

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- - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**MOMMA MIA**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 3**

"Man, that guy is going to hear, 'I told you so' for the rest of his life."

Shaking his head, Johnny leaned on the counter at the Rampart base station. Nurses and orderlies passed by in the Emergency Department hallway behind him. Push carts, wheelchairs, patients. The usual hospital activity.

"Well, it's just a good thing he wasn't hurt worse than he was." Roy put pre-wrapped supplies into the tray slots of the open drug box between them.

"Is he going to be okay?" Sitting next to them, Dixie McCall rested her chin on her hand and fiddled with a pen over the half-filled out hospital form on the counter.

Johnny shrugged, making a face. "Jury's still out until they get the x-rays. He was stable in the ambulance."

"He could have saved himself a pretty serious head injury, not to mention that talking-to he's going to get from his uncle. He wasn't wearing a seat belt." Roy shut the drug box and snapped the latch down.

Beep, beep, beep. "Squad Fifty-One. Are you available?"

Johnny grabbed the handi-talkie dangling from his wrist.

"Squad Fifty-One available."

"Squad Fifty-One, man down, at the office, Fifty-Three-Two-Oh West Greer Street."

"Ten-four."

Roy picked up the drug box and Johnny waved to Dixie as they hurried away.

**

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- - - End Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**MOMMA MIA**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 4**

A short, stout woman in an orange dress, poofy dark brown hair and white horned rim glasses met them at the glass doors of the entrance.

"He's right back here."

They followed her down a blue carpeted hallway. A few office workers warily peeked out of at them and whispered from open doors. It was an insurance company with people dressed in business attire, suits and ties, neat dresses in solid colors, names and titles like 'Actuary' and 'Accounts' on the pale wood veneer doors.

"It's over this way. We were afraid to move him. He said his back hurt something terrible." They turned right into a large open area of desks with offices along two walls and windows looking out on a green, landscaped parking lot.

"Can you tell us his name? And has someone called an ambulance?" Roy saw a man's feet on the floor between two desks. Chairs and waste baskets had been moved out of the way. Above, a frosted plastic covering hung open from the ceiling, with two dark florescent lights in the fixture. A crowd of mostly women, gathered around the desks, parted for them.

"His name's Frank O'Brien. He's the assistant manager. And I think Clara called an ambulance. or maybe it was Helen." She stopped and let them pass and Roy asked her to double check.

"Hello, Frank. I'm Roy DeSoto; this is my partner John Gage." Roy knelt down next to the man in shirt sleeves and dark tie. He looked like he was in his mid-forties with a receding hairline and a padded waistline. "I hear you hurt your back. How're you doing?"

He grimaced up at them. "I don't mean anything by this guys, but just you two walking through the front door means I'm not having a good day." Both paramedics had to smile a little at the truth of that.

"Can you tell us what happened, Frank?" Johnny knelt next to Roy, putting the drug box down on the carpet.

"It was that light up there. It got me!" Frank pointed. Roy took his arm while everyone else glanced up at the open fixture.

"Try not to move around too much. We don't want you to aggravate your injury."

"Sorry. Anyway, we called the building supervisor three weeks ago about it and then finally last week a guy brings the bulbs and then just leaves them. Says it wasn't his job to put them in. How many building supervisors does it take to screw in a lightbulb anyway?"

A couple of people in the gathered crowd laughed. Roy cracked a smile. "So, you decided to change it yourself."

"Yeah, you got me. I didn't have a ladder, but I thought I could just stand on the desk. And a few phone books."

Looking up, Johnny saw the long the box of bulbs and the abused phone books stacked on the desk next to them. "And it didn't work out."

"Yeah. The yellow pages did the walking this time. And I did the falling. Oooooh." Frank grimaced.

"Can you tell us exactly where it hurts? And where you fell?" Roy didn't see any obvious bruises.

"Oh, it was mostly the floor. But the edge of the desk got me on the way down." He pointed with his hand below his right hip. "But sorry, officer, I didn't get the license plate number on that desk."

Roy grinned again. While he questioned Frank about the feeling in his arms and legs, Johnny got up and reached for the phone. "Roy, I'm going to get the hospital on the land line."

"You need to dial 9 for an outside line." An older woman in a green dress and a beauty-parlor hardened head of styled, tinted hair came around the end of the desk to help. Roy took Frank's vital signs. BP and respiration were fine, but his pulse was a little rapid and even though he was in good humor, he looked a little pale. He had no pain, numbness or tingling in his extremities. Roy passed the vital signs on to Johnny who read them off to Rampart.

The first woman in the orange dress and horned rim glasses confirmed that an ambulance had been called.

"Oh, is he going to be all right?" The woman in the green dress crouched next to Roy, talking right in his ear. "He's not going to be paralyzed is he? I've read - - "

"No, Ma'am. He's going to be fine. Uh, can you please step back." He gestured to push her and the others away. "Please, just step back and give him some air. Please." The pack of females guiltily backed up a pace.

"Ten-four Rampart. D5W, five milligrams MS IV." Johnny handed him the drug box and the phone. "Roy, I'm going to get the backboard." He left while Roy took out the IV.

"I'm going to start an IV, give you something to help with that pain." He took out the tubing, pulled oft strips of tape, put them on his pants leg.

"Now, that's what I like to hear. Can I have ice with that?" Frank smiled around a grimace.

"Sorry, fresh out of ice. You'll have to take it neat."

"Oooooh, just when I thought I was getting some good service in this joint."

Roy could feel the crowd inching closer behind him as he swabbed Frank's arm and started the IV. He heard a siren outside.

"Frank! What happened?!"

Roy looked up from where he taped the IV down on Frank's arm. Three women stepped aside as a man in shirt and tie ran up to them. He was middle aged, round in the body and face with closely cut reddish hair. He stopped and looked up at the ceiling.

"Oh, Frank, you didn't?!"

"Yeah, I did. Hey, I'll do anything to meet new people. Meet my new buddy here, Roy."

Roy stopped Frank from moving the arm with the IV.

"Oh, I'm Ed Wazleveck. I'm the office manager and this clown is supposed to be my assistant." He leaned forward, arms up in exasperation. "I don't believe it, I leave for a half hour and I come back to this?" His expression changed to worry at the sight of IV bag Roy held up. "Hey, he's not really hurt is he?"

"He hit his back on the desk when he fell. We're just going to take him to the hospital where they can take some x-rays and check him out."

"Oooh, Frank. You could've waited for those guys to fix that." Ed looked around at the crowd. "Hey, what are you all standing around here for? Show's over." He clapped his hands. "Get back to work."

A few of them muttering, they started to shuffle off. Ed pointed at the woman in the horned rimmed glasses. "Betty, did you call Mary?" From her suddenly worried expression, she obviously hadn't. "What? Didn't anyone think to call Frank's wife about this?"

Johnny came hurrying in with the backboard, two ambulance attendants and a gurney. With Ed herding everyone back to their desks, the two paramedics and the attendants eased Frank onto the backboard, fastened the straps, then lifted that onto the gurney. Roy stood, still holding the IV bag.

"I'll go in with him."

They started to move off but Frank raised his free arm.

"Hey, wait. Buddy, come here."

Surprised, Johnny crouched next to the gurney. "Yeah?" Frank signed for him to come closer. Roy didn't catch what Frank whispered to him. "Yeah?" He nodded and sat back again. "Okay, thanks." He stood and stepped back.

They took Frank out to the ambulance and got him inside. The doors closed and the siren started up.

"How're feeling?" Roy sat next to Frank whose coloring had definitely improved. Carl, one of the ambulance attendants, sat by the door.

Frank grimaced. "Oh, well. A little better. But my back is still there. Say, d'ya think the doctors can take that out? Save me a lot of pain that way."

"Well, backs. . . .you can't live with them. You can't live without 'em." He patted Frank on the shoulder. "Say, what was that you said to my partner back there?"

"Oh, that? I don't think you noticed back there, but I saw Peggy follow him out and come back in. I could see her man radar was out. I told him to stay away if she gave him her number. She's nothing but trouble."

"Yeah?" Roy had not noticed. There had been three or four young pretty women in the office who might have been Peggy.

Frank nodded. "Yeah. She's already got a boyfriend. A big guy. A bouncer at a bar. But one's not enough for Peggy. And she just loves to have men fight over her." He shook his head slowly. "Yeah, she's caused a little soap opera in the office a few times. But . . . . good typist. Hundred twenty words a minute. Accurate, too."

Roy hoped that his partner was smart enough to take sound advice. Johnny liked women. He liked looking at them. He liked talking to them. He liked dating them. But Roy was pretty certain that he never wanted to fight over them. Frank, who was married and wanted to stay that way kept Peggy at arm's length. He admitted she was nice to look at, but his wife, Mary, was the woman coming to see him at the hospital. That mattered a lot more than a pretty face and a good time. Roy, thinking about his own wife, Joanne, knew just how he felt. Carl only shrugged; he wasn't married.

When they got to the hospital, Frank was taken right away to Treatment Room Three. Doctor Early examined him, checked him for spinal injuries, asked him what happened, asked Roy what happened, and ordered x-rays. And Early laughed when Frank told him he was struck by a hit-and-run desk. Roy left Frank to the doctor's care. Frank waved a farewell with one free hand and offered to sell him insurance any time.

He found Johnny at the Rampart base station talking to Dixie McCall, the head nurse and a very handsome woman herself.

"Hey Roy," Johnny put a hand on his shoulder, "for as much pain that guy was in, wouldn't you say Frank was funny?"

Roy grinned. "Oh, yeah. I wish all our victims could be that upbeat. But, hey, he told me he gave you a little advice, too."

"Huh?"

"About a woman in his office. Thought she might make a pass at you."

"Oh, yeah." He reached up to his left breast pocket and took out a folded yellow piece of paper.

Dixie looked appreciative. "Oh, really? I guess the girls just can't stay away from you, Johnny."

"It does seem that way." Johnny grinned cockily and Roy frowned down at the paper. There was a name with a little heart drawn after it and a phone number. Johnny gazed down at it, sighed, folded it up again and tore it in half. Then quarters.

Dixie raised her eyebrows. "Not interested? I didn't think that was possible."

His hand closed on the paper. "Well, Frank told me she was a little high maintenance. And then when I was going out, that other guy, Ed, said the same thing. But it's still nice to be appreciated." The crumpled paper held between thumb and index finger, poised for a shot at the trash can, he leaned over the counter,. Dixie took it and threw it away for him.

Roy patted him on the back. "Let's get back to the station. It's time for lunch. See ya, Dix."

**

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- - - End Part 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**MOMMA MIA**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 5**

The light up ahead turned yellow. Roy slowed, coming to a stop as it turned red.

_**". . . . The history book on the shelf,**_

_**Is always repeating itself."**_

_**"Waterloo,**_

_**I was defeated, you won the war.**_

_**Waterloo,**_

_**Promise to love you forever more."**_

_**"Waterloo . . . "**_

That sounded like. . . . stunned, Roy saw Johnny leaning on the passenger door, the back of his head framed in the window.

"Hi there!"

"Hi!"

This time, Roy heard the blond woman's response. This was impossible. It was a different song, but the same type of music. The same woman, flirting with Johnny at a stoplight.

_**". . . . Waterloo,**_

_**Couldn't escape if I wanted to,**_

_**Waterloo,**_

_**Knowing my fate is to be with you,**_

_**Waterloo . . . ."**_

As soon as the light went green, the red convertible shot forward. It was an older, small and sporty foreign model with rounded fenders and two seats, not too dissimilar from Roy's own car. The woman was tanned and wore a white sleeveless shirt with a pink scarf over her sun-bleached hair. Roy turned the squad to the left.

"Roy!" Johnny looked offended.

"We're in the left turn lane!" He waved a hand forward, toward Station Fifty-One. "We have to turn. Besides, I still want lunch."

"Oh, yeah." His partner seemed to accept this. Then he brightened again. "Oh, well. We'll see each other again."

"I don't know how that happened the second time." They drove the last few blocks back to the station. Roy couldn't figure it out. They were on a different street. Going in a different direction. Later in the day. She couldn't have been following the squad. Roy, and especially Johnny, would have seen her. Was she just driving around in the area all day?

When they got back, the rest of the crew was busy with station housekeeping. In the dayroom, Chet Kelly mopped the floor in front of the couch while Mike Stoker finished drying the lunch dishes and putting them away. The pot of soup in the fridge was still a little warm and Roy put it on the stove. Johnny took out the sandwiches. Plates, napkins, glasses of milk. Roy told Mike about the girl in the convertible.

"Nice going, Gage." Stoker gave him a thumbs up before putting another dish in a cabinet above the counter.

"Hey, when you got it, you got it." Johnny peeked under a bread slice. Bologna, mustard, pickle slices, tomato.

"Well, the sun must have been in her eyes, 'cause you sure don't got it." Chet wrung the mop out in the metal bucket.

"Eat your heart out, Chet." Grinning, Johnny took a bite.

"What I can't figure out is how it happened twice. Once sure. But twice? In the same day? What are the odds of that happening?" Roy grabbed a half a sandwich for himself and got a spoon to stir the soup. It was tomato.

Johnny shrugged confidently. "Must be fate. We were just destined to meet."

Roy finished reheating the soup and brought it with bowls to the table and talked about the last run as they finished lunch. After that, they got to wash and dry their own dishes. By then, Captain Stanley and Marco Lopez came in from making up the beds in the dormitory.

Afternoons was the least busy time of day at Station Fifty-One for runs and this one was slower than usual. The Engine crew got called out for an 'outhouse fire' but Squad Forty-Five was already on the scene. Roy and Johnny were just as glad that they didn't get called for that one. The day's mail arrived and they sorted it, took out the trash and then looked at a list of four fire inspections that Captain Stanley had left for them. Two restaurants, a theater and a beauty parlor. They left the station before the engine crew got back to start with the restaurants.

Neither one was bad. They gave a warning to the owner of a fancy steakhouse for a flue over his deep fat fryer overloaded with grease. Everything else was fine and the owner unhappily grumbled that he would fix it without any arguments.

The second place, a family Mexican restaurant had no issues. On their way out, the manager told them that he would never be able to face his brother, a fireman in Sacramento, if he ever skimped on fire codes.

The theater was a problem, the electrical boxes were unmarked, they had too much current plugged into one outlet at the refreshment stand and unmarked exits. The manager complained loudly about the injustice of them harassing him over every citation. Since it was a theater, where a lot of people would gather, he only got seven days to fix the problems. They left the dark lobby, walking out on the sidewalk into the sunshine, with the manager yelling about lawyers and hard-working businessmen.

They had plenty of time to do the last inspection and get back to the station for dinner when they got a run. A woman injured in a fall.

**

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- - - End Part 5**


	6. Chapter 6

**MOMMA MIA**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 6**

They rolled up to an average house with a neat yard, in an average tree-lined residential neighborhood. When they knocked on the door and called out, a woman's voice answered for them to come in. A black and white cat darted out as soon as Roy pushed it open.

"Oh, be careful! Don't let him out!"

They both turned to look. The cat hadn't gone far, but it was well out of reach, indecisively twitching it's tail as if it was baiting them to try to catch it. They turned back to the house. Roy and Johnny grimaced to each other from the smell of too many cats living in one house. Way too many cats. The house seemed neat enough, except for all the cat hair on the carpets and the furniture. And the litter box visible under the curving legs of a mahogany table in the back of the front hallway.

The victim was in the living room, a phone on the floor next to her. They introduced themselves to a very nice woman in her early sixties; her name was Sarah Pierpont. She had tripped on one of her cats, fallen and hurt her leg.

"Oh, he really didn't mean it. I just startled poor Thurber, that's all."

Looking around, Johnny could not tell which cat might have been the culprit. There were two tabbies on the sofa. A yowling Siamese on the mantlepiece. A long-haired gray cat, body low and compact on the gold seat cushion of an antique wooden chair, watched them with wide, intense yellow eyes. Three more cats darted around the room. Two sat on the window sill, looking out at the street. And from the meowing they could hear from the hallway there were clearly more of them in the rest of the house.

Sarah half-sat up next to the sofa and they asked where she was hurt. She had caught her leg on the coffee table and twisted it, but the rest of her had fallen on the edge of the sofa cushions. Roy examined her thin legs. Her left calf was swollen and extremely painful for her to move in any way.

"I'm afraid that looks like it's broken."

Johnny got up and headed for the door. "I'll get the leg splint."

"Oh, it couldn't be broken, could it? I've never had a broken leg." Sarah patted the flowered hem of her dress down over her knees.

"Yes, Ma'an, I'm afraid it is." Roy got up to carefully step over her legs - - and a cat - - to get to the phone to call for an ambulance.

By the door, Johnny used his feet to shove three cats determined to escape, but when he opened the it part way, the same black and white cat that had gotten out when they came in was there waiting.

"Well, come on."

Green eyes wide, the cat on the front step looked up at him while he blocked the other three with his legs.

"Come on." Johnny moved his body in between the doorframe and the door.

The cat outside sat down and licked its lips.

"Okay, have it your way."

He slid out, closed the door without catching any kitty paws and then ran to the squad, enjoying the fresh air while he could. But when he got back, the black and white cat sat right on the threshold, meowing to be let in.

"Will you make up your mind?"

Johnny used the leg splint to keep the other cats from coming out while he let the outside cat in. Then he slid in and closed the door. The smell made the otherwise ordinary front hall feel like a cave. Drug box open, Roy was on the phone to the hospital when he got back. Sarah's vital signs were good and no other injuries.

"Immobilize the leg and transport as soon as possible." Roy confirmed that the ETA on the ambulance was ten minutes, signed off with Rampart and hung up the phone.

"Now I'm going to put this on you to keep your leg straight while we take you to the hospital." Johnny reached for the tape and began easing the cardboard splint under her leg.

A black cat nuzzled Sarah for attention and she scratched its ears while she fretted. "Oh dear. A hospital. Are you sure that's necessary? It isn't just a sprain?"

Roy nodded his assurance to her. "I'm afraid the doctors are going to have to take x-rays and put a cast on it at the hospital."

"Oh, well. I suppose so." Next to her, the black cat purred loudly.

"Hey, cut that out!" Johnny curtly swatted back the white Persian that had started batting at the tape he closed the splint with.

"Oh, Blissy, you naughty boy, stop that!"

Blissy, feathery white tail held high, gave him a dirty look and backed off.

Knock, knock, knock!

"Sarah? Sarah?"

A middle-aged blond woman in a slim lime green dress peeked into the living room. Then another, shorter heavier woman with graying hair.

"Sarah? We saw the fire truck outside - - oh!"

"Oh, Margaret, Norma. I didn't want to worry you."

The two newcomers came in, edging around the cats. A couple of them meowed for attention. One of the tabbies thumped down off the couch to hurry over to them.

"You should have called." The first woman, apparently Margaret, clasped her hands together while a tortoise-shell cat hopped up on the coffee table and meowed for attention.

"Oh, well I tried, but there was no answer. But these two young men came right away."

"I was in the yard; I must not have heard the phone."

"I was shopping." The second, stouter woman, Norma, stooped to stroke Blissy. "Is it serious?"

"Uh, it's not too serious, Ma'am." Roy nudged a smaller Siamese away. The larger one on the mantlepiece yowled. "But her leg looks like it's broken and we're taking her to the hospital to have it looked at. Are you two relatives?"

"Oh, no, we're just neighbors. Sarah, doesn't your sister live in Santa Barbara?" The taller woman looked uncertain.

"Yes. I suppose I'll have to call." Sarah put a thin, wrinkled and heavily veined hand to her mouth. "Oh, dear, do you think you could take care of my cats. Just for a little while?" One of the cats on the window sill jumped down to the floor. "I just put out fresh food and water this morning and I emptied their boxes. They shouldn't be a bother."

"Oh, of course, dear!" Margaret clasped her hands together while the older woman joined in the assurances.

"Of course." Norma bent to stroke Blissy. "We'll take good care of you while your mommy's away." She made kissy noises at the inquisitive cat.

Johnny finished with the splint. "Uh, Ma'am, how many cats do you have?" There were more than a dozen that he could see in the front room alone.

"Oh, well. I just got Leo last month and there is Vivi's new litter. . . . . forty-seven."

"Forty-seven? Cats?" Johnny barely spoke the words. But Sarah seemed oblivious to his expression of shock.

"Oh, yes, they're just like my little children." Sarah beamed down at the small gray and white Siamese butting its head forward next to the black cat to be scratched.

"Well, ah. . . ." Roy rubbed his neck as he watched a white short-hair cat with tan spots that he hadn't seen before picking its way down the back of the sofa, "how are we going to keep them from getting out when the ambulance crew comes in?"

Still on one knee next to Sarah's immobilized leg Johnny turned his body one way, then the other. "Can we put them in the back of the house? Just until we leave?"

Sarah fretted. "Oh, these are my front room cats. They don't always get along with the ones in back. Oooh," she scratched the little Siamese.

"We could put them all in the front bedroom. Just for a little while." Margaret scooped up the cat on the coffee table. Norma picked up Blissy and they both bustled out of the room.

"Here, Johnny, why don't you give them a hand."

He looked startled by his partner's suggestion. "Me? Ahh. . . . " He gave Sarah a halting smile. "Sure. I . . . guess." Standing, he looked around for a cat the grab. They all seemed to know what he was thinking and trotted out of reach. But the long-haired gray one primly watching him from the chair, imperiously didn't seem to think he could move it until he picked it up.

"Oh he's such a nice man."

Roy agreed with Sarah. "Yes, Ma'am, he is." Johnny caught a hint of a grin on Roy's face as he left to follow the two women.

Johnny went into the hall past the litter box. Norma stood by an open door into a bedroom. All the other doors in the hallway were closed.

"Here I'll take him." She took the cat and passed it into the bedroom where Margaret was. "Now, if you just collect them, we'll just get them all in here."

Nodding, Johnny went back to the living room. He tried to grab two, but the cats had other ideas. One of the tabbies on the sofa was too lazy to escape him and he took it to Norma. Returning to the living room, he went for the other tabby, which sat, tail twitching, on the coffee table. It leapt down and away just before he got to it. Then he nearly tripped on another cat running past his ankles. He steadied the delicate end table he almost knocked over and gave Sarah a nervous smile.

"They just want to play." She beamed at her 'children.'

"Yes, Ma'am." Roy patted her shoulder and got up. "I'll just give them a hand."

Annoyed with his partner's too amused expression, Johnny still accepted his help. They collected cats and took them to Norma and Margaret. Four. Five. Six. The big Siamese tried to squirm away, but Johnny handed him to Norma without getting scratched. Seven. Eight. Nine. Sarah called out encouragement to her pets, trying to help with rounding them up. Ten. Eleven, Twelve. After the sixteenth cat, Johnny heard the ambulance siren outside. There are still two that wouldn't come out from under the couch; it didn't look like they would rush out the front door.

Roy went to the door to let in two ambulance attendants they knew, Hal and Sam. Both men looked taken aback by the smell in the house, but professionally said nothing about it. They helped load Sarah onto the stretcher while Margaret retrieved her purse and her small phone/address book to take with her to the hospital. Norma promised to drive to Rampart to see her.

Sarah thanked them and waved good-bye as Sam and Hal loaded her into the ambulance. Roy and Johnny got back in the squad. Roy started the engine.

"Forty-seven cats. How does anyone put up with forty-seven cats?" Johnny looked back at the house as Roy drove away.

"I don't know. But she's got the neighbors to help her with them."

"Yeah. But forty-seven cats . . . "

Roy shrugged and glanced down at the clip boards on the seat between them. "We can get to this last inspection before they close."

"Yeah, might as well." Johnny picked up the radio mic and told dispatch that they were available, on their last inspection.

They drove up to the Hair Crazy beauty salon after four-thirty. It was still open, but with only a few customers under the hair dryers. The manager/owner Harriet 'Hair' Kenner, a heavyset middle-aged woman in a blue and white muumuu and expertly smoothed and styled black hair piled on her head, greeted them warmly enough. Roy took the front, Johnny the back while the women under the hair dryers warily watched and whispered to the beauticians.

Everything was electric, so there was no gas to check. They found plenty of electrical outlets with not too many things plugged into each. The fuse box in back was correctly marked. Some of the wall paint was fresh and Mrs. Kenner proudly bragged about the work her brother-in-law had just finished for her, at cost.

The first trouble sign came when Roy asked her about the recent electrical work being inspected. Mrs. Kenner gave him a blank stare. Roy politely explained about the need for a city inspection. Then Johnny opened a utility closet in back.

"Uh, Roy!"

Roy made his way past the padded chairs, lighted mirrors and counters of bottles, combs, brushes and scissors. A couple of beauticians followed him with their eyes as they cleaned up for the end of the day. The aroma of beauty products was thicker in the back of the shop. Johnny held a utility room door open in a rear alcove area next to shelves stacked with supplies, a restroom and a back door.

He looked in the closet-sized room. There were brooms, a mop, brushes, boards, plywood, a big jar of nails, coils of wire, some power tools, paint cans, a bin of rags, paint thinner, some floor cleaner and wax, a big wad of canvas, paint-spattered drop cloth. All crammed in next to the water heater. The only wonder now was that Hair Crazy hadn't burst into flames already.

Johnny spoke sternly and pointed. "Ma'am you can't keep this stuff in here."

"Oh, it's just temporary. Roderick is going to pick it up next week."

"No, Ma'am, you have to move it now. It's a fire hazard." But Mrs. Kenner did not seem to understand the urgency of the problem.

"But he's coming to get it next week!" Mrs. Kenner grew increasingly frazzled that this just wasn't good enough. She finally bustled to the front desk to telephone her brother-in-law while they cleared a wide space around the water heater. She would have three days to comply with their citation while they put the worst flammables on a half-empty lower shelf. They could hear Mrs. Kenner's excited tones, though not the words, exchanged with her brother-in-law.

She seemed a bit calmer when they returned to the front of the shop though the beauticians gave them dirty looks. The customers had gone. Mrs Kenner's brother-in-law was coming over right away to take his things. And bring over the inspection form. She only unhappily huffed over the citation. She locked the door behind them.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 6**


	7. Chapter 7

**MOMMA MIA**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 7**

It was well after five. Heavy traffic. Roy knew all the back streets to use to avoid the worst of it and he knew which main streets weren't so bad. He made a left turn onto a four-lane boulevard, but the light at the intersection a hundred feet down the street turned red before they got to it.

_**". . . . It used to be so nice, it used to be so good."**_

_**"So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me,**_

_**S. O. S.**_

_**The love you gave me, nothing else can save me,**_

_**S. O. S.**_

_**When you're gone,**_

_**How can I even try to go on?. . . ."**_

Even leaning over the steering wheel, Roy couldn't see past Johnny's head, but he knew where the music was coming from. Different tune, but it sounded like the same group.

"Hi!" It was the same woman's voice.

"Hi there! Funny how we keep meeting like this."

Roy didn't catch the answer to Johnny's comment. He just shook his head in disbelief. Three times? In a whole city full of cars, they were stopped in traffic next to the same one? Same blonde. Same convertible. Same music. Three times in one day? It was impossible.

Johnny glanced his way, flashing a smile and then turned back toward the woman.

_**". . . . So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me**_

_**S. O. S.**_

_**The love you gave me, nothing else can save me**_

_**S. O. S.**_

_**When you're gone . . . ."**_

The light turned green. The little red convertible accelerated out into the intersection.

Both Roy and Johnny leaned forward, mouths open. A light blue sedan didn't even slow down on the cross street. It hit the convertible on the passenger side, smashing it into the hood of a green station wagon. The blond woman was a flash of white and pink as she was thrown over and behind the blue sedan onto the pavement.

Roy clicked the red lights and the siren on. Johnny grabbed the mic.

"This is Squad Fifty-One. We have a traffic accident with injuries at the intersection of a hundred and eighty-second and South Morrison. Request police assistance and an ambulance."

"Ten-Four, Squad Fifty-One. Time out, Seventeen-twenty-one."

Roy moved the squad forward, cutting the siren, but leaving the lights on. They were right in the middle of the intersection. No police yet to stop the traffic. Johnny was first out and grabbed the road flares from a rear compartment of the squad. He started to run around the back end of the blue sedan, but skidded to a stop, his arms out for balance as a white car went by. Roy had to wait for two cars to go by before he could even open the driver's side door.

Some cars passed, honking as they went, but others slowed to look, blocking the ones behind them. More honking. A young man in a suit got out of a stopped car and Johnny yelled at him to stay where he was. Roy saw smoke from the flares, but he couldn't see anything else behind the body of the sedan. The driver's door opened, but the graying-haired man crumpled behind the wheel didn't move. Blood reddened the shatter-point on the wind shield where his head must have impacted; the seatbelt lay unused on the seat. Roy couldn't find a carotid and the head fell loose to the side. He wiped the blood off his fingers. Something light hit his angle and clattered on the asphalt. An empty beer can rolled away. He closed the door.

He heard children crying from the station wagon on the other side of what was left of the red convertible that blocked the driver side doors. He ran to it. A little girl in pig-tails opened the rear door.

"Oh, don't get out, honey. Just stay here." He eased her back onto the seat. She wore a bright red dress, her black hair in pig-tails tied with matching ribbons. Next to her was another crying little girl, exactly the same, in exactly the same outfit. Twins. And a younger little boy, maybe five years-old. They were wearing seatbelts.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"I don't think they're hurt, but I can't get my door open and my seatbelt is stuck." The frantic mother looked over the front seat at him. She wore big yellow-green earrings that matched her top. "But it's my son. He hit his head."

Roy saw the top some black hair in the front passenger seat. After making sure that the three in the back were okay, he left them to open the front door. Sirens approached.

The boy in the front looked like he was maybe twelve. He had a bleeding cut at the hairline.

"Son, son? Can you hear me?"

The boy blinked blearily at him, his eyes large and unfocused. "Huuuh?"

He took out his pen light and shined it in the boy's eyes. "Can you tell me your name, son?"

"Unnnnh."

Police cars arrived, lights flashing, sirens winding down. The boy's pupils were uneven and didn't respond well to the light. "Son? Can you tell me your name?"

"His name is Devon."

"Are you hurt, Ma'am?" Roy looked up at the worried mother.

"No, I don't think so, but I can't get out!" Her tone rose. All three children in the back started crying. Roy unbuckled the boy's seatbelt and examined him. He didn't seem to be hurt anywhere else. Another siren approached. "Oh, please, please, help him!"

"Ma'am, Ma'am, we're going to get you all out, but I need you to remain calm. - - "

"Roy?" Johnny was behind him. He had the biophone and the drug box. And policemen to help. A fire engine arrived. Engine Fifty-One. More help.

The rescue became routine after that. The sheriff's deputies helped with the scared and uninjured children in the back seat. They used a back board to take the boy out and Johnny cut the mother free with his packet knife. The engine crew hosed down the spilled gasoline from the crash. The ambulance arrived. Pedestrians, herded back by the police, collected on the sidewalks to watch, some pointing, putting hands to their mouths.

Roy glanced toward the street where the flares still smoked. And at the big square of yellow sheeting that Johnny had covered the body with.

Roy turned back to the injured boy. He would ride in the ambulance him, his mother up front. The sheriff's deputies would take the younger ones in and contact their father to meet them at the hospital. Johnny would drive in the squad.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 7**


	8. Chapter 8

**MOMMA MIA**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 8**

"Hi Roy." Captain Stanley greeted him as he walked into the open kitchen area. "You took a long time at the hospital. Is the kid okay?"

"Oh, he's fine. But we had to stay and talk to the cops, since we saw the accident."

Stanley put his hand to his forehead. "That's right, you called it in. Well, how'd it happen?"

Roy pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. "We were stopped at a light and . . . . that girl with the music in the convertible was there next to us again."

All the others grinned. "Third time?" Lopez nodded appreciation to the other three.

Roy silently shook his head. The smiles around the table vanished.

"As soon the light went green, she pulled out into the intersection and that other car hit her. Guy didn't even slow down."

The others stared back. Chet's mouth opened slowly. "Wait a minute . . . that red car? That was HER? On that last run?"

Roy nodded. "Yeah."

Stanley sat back. "Holy smokes."

The others exchanged similar expressions of surprise, shock. Marco moved his lips, but seemed to think better of it and said nothing. Chet spoke first.

"Where's Johnny?"

Roy gestured toward the door. "He's in the dorm. Taking a little time."

Nobody said anything until finally Captain Stanley turned to Stoker. "Mike, how's that meatloaf doing?"

"Oh, ah, almost done, Cap. But I need to start the biscuits."

"Well, get to it. We're all getting pretty hungry. I'll be in my office." Stanley got up. Stoker got out the tube of biscuits from the fridge. Chet and Marco got the dishes from the cabinets and started to set the table.

Roy went out to the squad. They'd gotten supplies at the hospital and he took out the drug and trauma boxes, put them on the floor and began slowly putting the supply packets away. Then he counted everything in both boxes. By the time he was done, Roy could smell the biscuits from the kitchen. Chet came looking for him.

"Dinner's almost ready."

Roy nodded up at him, closing and latching both boxes.

"Hey, Roy, you want me to get Johnny?"

Roy shook his head, lifting the boxes into their compartments in the squad. "No, I'll get him." With the usual metal clangs, he closed the doors and turned the handles.

"Okay." Kelly went back to the kitchen.

Roy walked around the engine and looked in the window of the door to the dormitory, but he didn't see anyone. He walked to the locker room door. When he opened it, he saw Johnny, elbows on his knees, sitting on the end of the bench in front of his locker. As soon as Roy walked in, Johnny turned his back to the door.

"Uh, dinner's almost ready."

"Yeah. I - I'll be right there."

"Okay." Roy waited for something more but Johnny stayed silent.

"Y'know, you can't get personally involved in things like these. You'll drive yourself crazy in this job if you do."

"Yeah I know. I know." More silence.

Roy hated just standing there. But there wasn't anything more to say. "See ya in there."

"Yeah."

Roy opened the door again and took a step.

"Roy."

He stopped.

"We didn't even know her name."

"No." Roy looked at the back of his partner's head. "We didn't. I guess we could ask the cops."

Johnny shook his head, but he still did not turn around. "You can't get personally involved."

"Yeah. I guess so." Roy looked down and glanced to either side of him. There was no one else around. But he had run out of words. The others were in the kitchen. Getting dinner ready. Still on the edge of the bench, Johnny hadn't moved. Roy backed out, letting the door close behind him.

Roy's footsteps receded. The locker room was silent again.

John Gage knew that men cried. They just kept it to themselves. Held it back until the crisis was over. He rubbed his eyes, putting his elbows on his knees.

There just wasn't any point in wondering who she was or where she was going, or if she was single. She was gone. That was that. Thinking about how she might have avoided being hit at that intersection. Or if she would have survived if she was wearing a seatbelt. Or the broken body on the street, pink scarf and blond hair bloody. Or the wide open eyes staring up at the sky, as if she was completely surprised by being dead. No music. And if he could have saved her . . . . .

That would make him crazy. Johnny rubbed his eyes again.

Getting up, he went to the sink and turned on the tap. He squeezed his eyes shut, keeping out the cold water he splashed on his face. He shook his hands and groped for the hand towel hanging by the shower stall.

That was it. That was all the time he was allowed to regret what might have been. He finished with the towel and rehung it. She would remain a mysterious flirtation on a warm California afternoon. For all he knew, she had been perfect. He wasn't going to make any inquiries that would spoil that.

He left the locker room to go to dinner.

**

* * *

- - - END**

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Mark VII Productions, Inc., Universal Studios and whoever else owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox.


End file.
